


Black-Winged Red-Bird

by Ruuger



Category: The Mentalist, West Wing
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Bartlet almost gets shot again, and Jane almost gets a lecture on civic responsibilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black-Winged Red-Bird

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by my recent The West Wing rewatch during which I realised that if Jane had used his powers for good instead of evil, he would be Bartlet.
> 
> Thanks to next_to_normal for helping me make Bartlet sound like himself.

"Why is the CBI doing security anyway? Isn't that usually the job for some rented gorillas in cheap suits?"

Jane slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wadded napkin. He opened it carefully to reveal a selection of canapés that had somehow made their way from a silver tray to Jane's pocket when they'd taken a shortcut through the kitchens. He offered Lisbon one, but she just rolled her eyes.

"The Governor wanted to make sure that the security was as good as possible since President Bartlet is making the opening speech."

Jane nodded, popping a slightly squashed canapé into his mouth. "Ah. money."

"Stop being so cynical, Jane. It's for a good cause. The profits from the ball are going to the children's cancer ward at UC Davis."

"Ah, money and PR," Jane said, his voice muffled by the food. "If they really cared about sick children, they would just skip the red carpet and give all the money to charity."

Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "'He says, while eating a duck liver canapé.'"

"Touché, Lisbon, touché." Jane put the last canapé in his mouth, and then carefully folded the napkin and put it back into his pocket before leaning closer to Lisbon. "There's someone in that room," he whispered, pointing at the door on their right.

Lisbon stopped dead, her hand automatically reaching for her gun. Jane was right - she could hear muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. 

"It's supposed to be locked up and empty," she whispered back, raising her gun. "Van Pelt and Cho already secured this area."

She quickly scanned the hallway to make sure that they were alone, and then walked to the door, carefully resting her left hand on the handle. Jane stepped back, taking cover behind a sturdy pillar. Lisbon took one last breath before pulling the door open.

"CBI! Don't move! Put your hands up and keep them where I can see them!"

There were two men in the room, one older and one younger, standing in front of one of the paintings. For a few seconds Lisbon couldn't figure out why the older man looked so familiar, until suddenly it hit her. Oh. Crap.

She winced, lowering her gun. "President Bartlet?"

As if by magic, Jane appeared in the doorway. He looked from Lisbon to Bartlet and back, and then made a face. "Oops."

She cast him a quick glare before turning to the men.

"I'm so very sorry, Sir, I didn't know it was you." She hastily put away her gun, and got her badge out instead. "I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon and this is Patrick Jane. We're with the CBI." She paused for a second and then continued. "The California Bureau of-"

Bartlet raised his hand to stop her. "Investigation, yes, I know." He gave her a quizzical look. " I thought they shut you down and merged you with the Justice Department a few years ago?"

"No, sir. It was just budget cuts. We're still here."

Awkward silence fell, and Lisbon prayed that Jane wouldn't come up with anything embarrassing to fill it with.

"If it makes you feel better, she voted for you both times," Jane said.

Bartlet turned his attention to him. "Yes, it certainly would make me feel better while I was lying on the floor bleeding to death to know that at least this time the person who shot me did it because they liked me. Did you vote for me too? I'd like to know in case you were planning on shooting me as well."

Jane waved his hand dismissively. "Meh. I don't believe in voting. It's a tool of The Man."

Lisbon stared at him with a disbelieving look on her face. " _The Man?_ ," she mouthed, just as Bartlett said: "You don't believe in voting?"

Charlie closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Lisbon took the hint, and quickly stepped sideways to position herself between Bartlet and Jane. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here? This part of the building was supposed to be closed for renovations."

Bartlet gave Jane a look that communicated very clearly what he thought of people who shirked their civic responsibilities, and then turned to Lisbon again.

"Well, I just wanted to show my future son-in-law the original Audubon they have here." He pointed at one of the paintings at the wall. "It's an amazing piece of work, isn't it? The detail is so lifelike you can almost imagine the bird suddenly taking to its wings and flying away. Did you know, Agent Lisbon, that Syme's portrait of Audubon himself is actually in the White House Collection?" He turned to Charlie. "I think I showed it to you once, Charlie, didn't I?"

Charlie gave him a neutral look. "Yes, Sir, you did." 

Jane sauntered across the room and leaned to take a closer look at the painting. He studied it carefully for a moment, rocking on the balls of his feet, and then nodded. 

"I agree, it's quite pretty. I especially like the cute little rabbit on the background." He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and turned Bartlet. "Too bad it's a fake."

Bartlet frowned. "A fake? I don't think so. I think I know an Audubon when I see one."

Jane's smile was all teeth. "I'm not saying it's a bad fake - anyone could be fooled by it - but it's still a fake. The brushwork is all wrong for his post Birds of America period, and the signature is skewed a little too much to the right."

Bartlet's eyes narrowed. "Charlie, remind me again. Do I still have the power to have someone banished to Alaska?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, sir. I don't think you had that power even when you were the President."

"That's a shame."

Lisbon looked from Jane to Bartlet with a frozen smile on her face, and then grabbed Jane's arm. "We need to go, Jane. Now." She turned to Bartlet again. "I'm sorry, sir. I hope you have a good evening," she said, and then left, pulling Jane with her.

Bartlet watched them go and then turned back to the painting. He studied it for a few minutes before he spoke again.

"Charlie, could you do me a favour. While I'm out there sucking up to the silver spoon club-"

Charlie interrupted him before he could finish. "I'll call the Audubon Society and ask them what they know about the painting."

"Thank you, Charlie. You're a lifesaver." He put his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "And when you've done that, tell my secretary to get me the number of whoever is in charge of the CBI these days. I think some kind of an official visit is in order."


End file.
